With Kol (Daniels Family 2)

“Just a second!” I hear called from the other side, and I relax a bit at the sound of her voice.

The locks disengage, the door opens a crack with the chain still on, and Thea peeks her head around. “Umm, hi.”

Grinning, some of the stress of the day lifts off my shoulders. “Hey there, blue eyes. You wanna open the door for me?” She hesitates, and I frown, not liking that she has to think about it.

“Oh, umm, sure.” She slams the wood shut so hard that the sound echoes through the building. Opening the door again, she steps back to let me in. The inside of her apartment is no better than the hallways. With minimal furniture in her living room, I don’t like the picture I’m getting.

“So, look, that call I got yesterday, it’s keeping me busier than I thought it would,” I start to explain.

“You have to cancel?” Curious, she tilts her head, and her voice holds disappointment, but I see relief in her gaze.

Stepping closer to Thea, I cup her soft cheek in my hand, rubbing my thumb along the tiny scar and say, “Sadly, yes. I have a search warrant to serve. However, I want to make it up to you. Breakfast, maybe?”

I can see her answer before the words pass her lips. “I’m not sure. I have to work tomorrow.”

There’s more going on with her. I’ve known it from the moment I met Thea. She’s been hurt, deeply. Maybe even more than is wise for me to invest in, but I can’t let her go. There’s a voice in my mind screaming that I need her, and that possibly, she needs me, too.

“I’ll be here at six with coffee and muffins from this place I know. You won’t regret it.” Tears hover on her lids, and I hesitate, not wanting to push her too hard. But when she closes then opens her eyes, I see the conflict, her need to say no but the desire to say yes. “I’ll be here, blue eyes.” Leaning forward, I kiss her cheek again, and she trembles, causing me to frown.

It’s not a desirable tremble but one of pain. She’s a puzzle I want to put together, and I’m going to figure her out. The going may be slow, but I’ll get there.

Noah honking the horn pulls me away from Thea sooner than I’d like. “Lock this door,” I tell her, then take my leave.

Jogging back down to the car, I see Noah in the driver’s seat on his phone. Opening the door, he hangs up and drops it into the console. “Impatient much,” I grunt.

“We’ve got the warrant,” he replies and pulls into traffic. “SWAT is meeting us there with backup. They aren’t entering until we arrive.”

“Let’s do this.” I push everything about my interaction with Thea to the back of my mind, so she doesn’t become a distraction, and someone gets hurt.

The drive is quick and silent as we each prepare for the danger we could be facing. The men we’re hunting is a trio who robbed a liquor store and went on to hold up a convenience store five blocks away. The store clerk was shot and killed because she didn’t give them as much money as they thought would be in the register.

At seventy-three years old, Mary Clark lost her life for less than two hundred dollars because someone was trigger happy.

The only reason we know the location of these guys is because after one of the assailants shot t

he clerk, another stood frozen in shock, and the third went to check on her, taking off his mask as he did so.

Facial recognition took a few hours, but we got him. The perp did time a few years back for car theft. There were a few other petty thefts, all with the same guys, which is who we suspect he is with now.

“Here we go,” Noah murmurs. We both take a deep breath before exiting the car and moving to the trunk to grab our vests and shotguns.

“Detectives.” The scene commander greets us as we’re strapping on the armor.

“Commander, what can you tell us?” I ask, checking my gun and strapping it to my thigh.

“Three occupants in the house. We haven’t confirmed identities yet.” He walks with us as we head over to the mobile command center. “My men are ready to breach when you are.” He nods at the SWAT team waiting beside their truck, locked and loaded.

“Gentlemen, thanks for being here.” I learned a lot from my older brother when we served on the same police force. One lesson was to always respect my fellow officers no matter their division. “Stay safe. Watch your six.” Simple goes a long way, he used to tell me.

“Here we go,” Noah repeats. It’s his thing. We’ve served a lot of warrants together, some more dangerous than this, some not, but he always leads with the same thing. Similar to a lucky charm.

Following the SWAT leader up the street and then up the walkway to our target’s house, Noah and I hang back as they bang on the door. “Zachary Wyatt! Search warrant!” Five seconds ticks by like hours as we wait for movement.

“Ram,” someone calls.

Another officer runs up the steps, battering the door open and backs off so SWAT can enter first. A few “clears” come through the comm lines, but I’m waiting for the moment they say, “Hands! Show me your hands!” As soon as we hear the words, Noah and I are entering and rushing upstairs where we find Zach and two other men face down on the floor. A window is wide open with a closed black gym bag sitting on the roof outside of it.

“Making a run for it?” I ask, crouching down to where they’re now kneeling, hands cuffed behind their backs. They all look down.